Honesty
by refreshingbeverage
Summary: A question about a patient turns into an investigation of Wilson's personal life. Rated T for minor suggestive themes. More information inside.


_Written for a 1000-or-so word challenge. _

_Prompt: __"A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous." - Ingrid Bergman_

_These two are a bit of a diversion from my usual stuff, but it's fun to work with them._

* * *

><p><strong>Honesty<strong>

"What are the possible causes for honesty?"

James Wilson looked up from the MRI results on his desk as his close friend came limping through the sliding glass door from the balcony. "If you keep jumping that wall between our offices, you're going to hurt yourself," he commented, putting the papers aside.

"I can get hurt all I want; I'm in a hospital, they help hurt people here. Sick people too." Gregory House smirked as he managed to make Wilson roll his eyes. "But you didn't answer my question," he said as he sat down on the couch, "what are the possible causes for honesty?"

Wilson sat back in his chair, having no idea where this was going but willing to play along anyways. "Niceness?" he guessed with a shrug, already knowing he was wrong.

"I don't think that's the case. Guess again"

"Guilt? Will you give me a clue?"

House's mouth twitched to the side in thought before he said slowly, "patient isn't presenting other symptoms of guilt. What else?"

"Will this take long? In an hour I'm going to have to tell a single mother of two that she has breast cancer."

"You're an oncologist; almost everyone you meet has cancer. She should be expecting it and so should you."

Wilson sat a little straighter in his chair. "That doesn't make it any easier for-"

"-Symptom: Honesty. Possible causes: Go!"

"House! I don't know what you're looking for!"

"Then why didn't you say that to begin with?"

Annoyed, Wilson dropped his face into his palm, hoping that when he looked up that House would be heading back to his own office. Instead, the diagnostician stood up, walking towards Wilson's desk. Noticing a small snow-globe of the mountains, he rested most of his weight on it as he looked over the desk, covered with other gifts from patients. House lifted his cane and gently poked his friend's shoulder, making the chair swivel so they were facing one another again.

"Maybe I should ask you what the causes for _dis_honesty are."

"_You_?" Wilson snapped, keeping his head in his hands.

"Is that all?"

The younger man looked up, leaning back in his chair again. "We were never talking about a patient, were we?"

"A few seconds ago we were, but not anymore." House tore his sky blue eyes from Wilson, looking over at the 'Vertigo' poster on the wall and then at the door. He took a deep breath. "You're having an affair with that hot chick from pediatrics, aren't you?"

"'That hot chick from pediatrics'? House, I'm married. And I don't even know who you're talking about."

"Oh, you know who I'm talking about," he retorted, looking back at Wilson. "You've been going to lunch with her every Friday since she transferred here. You're wearing a tie."

"I always wear a tie."

"You're wearing a _nice_ tie "

"And you showered this morning," Wilson shot back, "or, at least I hope you did. But I know that doesn't mean that you're sleeping with someone."

The older man stared at the desk and tightened his grip on the cane. At this point, he wasn't sure whether he was doing Wilson a favor or just picking a fight. Either way, he needed to say it. "You canceled poker night," he said, not meeting his friend's gaze. "Said you were too tired and were going to go straight home".

"Oh God…" he knew what was coming. "Tell me you didn't break into my apartment."

"I didn't. I followed you to that new restaurant, that really expensive one… and then to an apartment complex I haven't seen before. I got bored, so I went home around two. I'm guessing you stayed a little longer."

"House!"

Wilson got up and began pacing across his office. Refusing to keep eye-contact with the other man, he ran his fingers through his hair as his jaw went slack, unable to form the words he wanted. Eventually, he stopped, his hands absently gesturing into the air as he approached House, who stood there quietly.

"You honestly had nothing better to do, so you stalked me? Why? I wouldn't stalk you if I thought you were seeing someone, I don't even stalk you when I know you're doing something illegal. Is this just another one of your tests? Your way of measuring our friendship - by seeing how much crap I take from you?"

House shrugged. "If that's true, then-"

"No! Don't deflect this!"

The two men stood there, House bracing himself on the desk. Their eyes finally met, blue widening when they saw the dark intensity of Wilson's.

"This is low, even for you," the oncologist said lowly, his brow furrowing in annoyance. "Sometimes, I'm not sure if I'm your friend or your social guinea pig. For some reason you're under the impression that I can't feel insulted. You always need to push things so damn far. And you're not going to say it anyways, but don't tell me you're sorry, because I know you're not. If you got the chance, you'd do it again. What could you possibly say that-"

Wilson was silenced as he felt a mouth close over his own. His eyes widened as he felt stubble brush against his clean-shaven face. The quietness of the room was interrupted when House's cane fell to the ground with a soft thud as he took a grip on Wilson's arms. He was too stunned to protest as he felt himself get drawn closer.

After a long moment, House pulled back, quietly gasping for a breath of air. He looked into the younger man's wide eyes. Wilson's mouth moved slightly, looking for words again. By the time he found them, House had walked out the door and into the hall, leaving his cane lying in the middle of the floor.


End file.
